Growth

As the end of a year draws close, I feel like it's time to do some reflecting on what's happened thus far. I know it's cliche to do end of year reflections (so many people do it), but it's doubly important to me because my birthday comes 2 days after the start of a new year, so it really is a completely new year to me (in terms of calendar years and age). 

Australia has helped me to grow in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine prior to my arrival. The independence thrust onto me when I flew here is something I'd never have been able to experience had I stayed in Singapore. I learnt to do laundry, cook and clean the house on a regular basis. I dealt with sickness on my own, because no one else is around to nurse me back to health. It was liberating to have the freedom to do what I want. At the same time, it was isolating initially to do everything on my own. 

I never expected the independence I would get in university. In JC, I was constantly being pushed by my teachers to do better. We were handed out homework on an almost daily basis. Teachers wanted us to succeed. We were drilled to remember X, Y and Z. In uni though, it's a completely different story. Lecturers provide the information we need, but there's no pushing of any sorts. They tell us what to do if we want to succeed, but they don't nag. It's a refreshing change, a reminder to me that I'm independent and don't need this pushing. That I'm expected to manage my time without supervision. 

Block placement was an eye-opening experience. I had a taste of what it's like to work full time in my profession of choice in a school setting. I thoroughly enjoyed it and I still want to work with children. It's unfortunate that I have to wait for 6 years before I can pursue the path of paediatric speech pathology, but that's the choice I made 3 years ago. I made new friends and I got a taste of what it's like to be good friends with my housemate. I haven't had that for a while now. E is such an amazing friend and I'm really glad I got to live with her when I was on block placement. I'm thankful that we still keep in touch and I really hope we'll maintain our friendship in years to come.

I've spent more time on music this year and that's something I'm thankful for. I don't know what I'd do if I wasn't able to immerse myself in playing and listening to music. I made some upgrades (bought a USB microphone and downloaded recording software) and I feel more and more proud of my growth as a musician. I even performed in public on 2 occasions!

I didn't do much interstate/city travel within Australia this year, but I did visit some really amazing countries. I went to Tokyo, Busan, Seoul and New York. I really loved all the places I visited. Each place has its quirks and charm and I'd love to return.

Also, special mention to my chicken fam for being my constant in this tumultuous year. With so much happening back home, more than 3000 miles away, it can feel isolating to be away from loved ones. But I found this special family here and I'm thankful for the bonds we share. I'm grateful that I have people here I can depend on. 

New York City

A life changing trip. I'd never travelled beyond the continents of Asia & Oceania, so to visit North America, more specifically, New York City in the US of A was such an exciting prospect for me. I remember being apprehensive and excited simultaneously prior to my visit. I was worried about the firearm situation there and safety. And while on hindsight, NYC was not the safest city I've ever visited (I witnessed a fight break out in the subway station), I was never put in harm's way during my trip there. I never got catcalled or had dodgy people approach me.
I was able to fulfill my childhood dream of travelling to the States, to watch a musical on Broadway (Anastasia, no less), meet a Broadway star I've been fangirling about since forever, see the Statue of Liberty, appreciate artpieces by the masters that I never thought I'd see in my whole lifetime (the whole Van Gogh collection, Picasso, Monet, Rembrandt etc). It feels surreal to think that I was able to even see so much art on a single trip.
There's still more I want to do in New York. One day, I will return for you.

3 Academic Years

So, I've completed my third year of studies. It feels surreal. On one hand, it feels like the year just whizzed past, but on the other hand, I can barely remember what happened during the academic year, especially in the first semester.
With each year in uni, it feels like I'm entering a completely different chapter of my life. Unlike my earlier years in secondary school and JC, I felt like each chapter lasted for 2 years. The past 3 years of my university life have been so vastly different from each other, it feels strange that they all happened consecutively. The first one was a year of exploration and discovery. If I had to summarise it in a single word, I'd say joy. It was a year of frequent, consistent joy. I guess that's how it is with every honeymoon period, be it with a place or person. With everything around me so novel, I was constantly enthralled by the newness of it all.
The second year was, overall, a rather gloomy and oppressing one. It start off with a bang when I embarked on my inaugural solo trip to Japan, a trip of many firsts. My first trip to Japan, my first ever solo trip from start to finish and I got to have such amazing experiences there. Then, I travelled to Taiwan with my sister. It was a The honeymoon ended and I realised not all friends are the same. I put my faith in people who later, unwittingly or intentionally, disappointed me. I lost faith in myself. I began to question my worth and identity, wondering if I was ever "smart". It was a year of emotional turmoil and disappointment. I ended on a good note, with a trip to New Zealand with a childhood friend who reassured me that I had value, that I was worthy of friendship and love.
The third year was a happier year, for the start of it at least. I recalibrated my expectations so that I wouldn't be disappointed. I found people who truly cared for me. But life (or should I say death?) constantly moves in unpredictable ways. I was struck with the misfortune of losing a loved one. I was on edge, anxious for over 5 months, booking multiple last minute flights home, having to reschedule my travel plans at the eleventh hour and feeling the isolation that grief brings with it, which was further exacerbated by being an 8 hour flight away from home. I honestly did not expect any of this to happen this year. It feels like life was trying to hammer into my head how unpredictable it can be by throwing all these curveballs my way. I have absolutely no idea how next year will be, but I'll be here, trying to pave my way through it no matter what.

Block placement

5 weeks. I never thought it'd pass this fast. 5 weeks in this regional town and I've come to cherish my time here. I've learnt so much about working in the school setting, something I won't get to do once I start work. I've met the most amazing people here who are so lovely and sweet. I felt like an adult, just doing work. For the first time in 5 weeks I hardly felt like a uni student because I was working in a clinic and I wasn't fussing about some random assignment or exam.
I guess I'm still trying to put my thoughts together, but for now I'll soak up the atmosphere here.
T-8 hours

Summer

"Why aren't you going back for summer?" says everyone who's going back and can't fathom why I'd choose to spend 3 months of my life in my second home instead of my first.

Is it so unfathomable that I'd prefer to stay in my second home during the summer, my first summer in this place ever? Is it so unthinkable that I'd like to experience a summer Christmas? Because the alternative (returning to my first home) is such an amazing alternative, hey?

There's absolutely nothing I'd like to do more than to walk along the corridor towards my flat. As I take each step towards the front door, and in my left peripheral view, I'll see the plants my Ah ma used to nurture each and every day when she could still manage to step out of the house. Or maybe instead, I'll see the space where my Ah ma used to keep her plants, the plants all withered, dead and discarded when she passed. Then I'll get closer to the door, and even before I pull out my keys, I will see the door to her room. When I enter the house and walk towards my bedroom, I will pass the room she and my ah gong used to live it. Each time I walk past that room, I will be slapped with a reminder of its emptiness, devoid of any life. Each time I leave or enter the house I spent the first 20 years of my life in, I will see that room. I will be confronted with the cold, hard truth of how both my grandparents took their last breaths in that room, 6 years apart from each other and how I was absent when it happened.
I'll sit on the couch and listen to the sounds in this house. My ears will quickly pick up that the only language spoken in this house is now English, in contrast to the smattering of English, Hokkien, Mandarin and occasional Malay they used to be bombarded with each day. They will pick up that the mean sound pressure level isn't as high as it used to be.
My nose will pick up the absence of medical balms and oils in the house. The smell of hong you no longer pervades my nostrils like it used to.
At dinner, there will rarely be porridge present on the table. The amount of food served on the table has decreased. The amount of rice in the rice cooker will also have decreased.
When I leave the house, I will no longer be nagged at to remember my phone, wallet, jumper and ezlink card. Sometimes, I will run down half a storey of stairs, only to have to run back up because I left something in the house. I will knock on the door and it'll take twice as long as it used to get the door open because I have to wait for my sister to come out from our bedroom, which is further away from the front door than Ah ma's room.

It sounds like a terrific way to spend 3 months, doesn't it? That's probably why you can't fathom why I'd choose to pass it up.

Things not to say to someone who is mourning

Ah death. The other half to life. What begins has to end and there's no escaping it.
However, some things we can escape are awkward interactions with people in mourning.
It's not that often that someone around us experiences a tragic loss and that's probably why we don't have these conversations that much. And in many cases, the person experiencing loss is in pain as well and the last thing you'd want is to hurt them with your words. Yet, it happens all the time because of the lack of practice in these situations. So to avoid unintentionally hurting someone you care about, here's some tips on what NOT to say or do to someone who's mourning.
1. "At least" - Don't utter these two words. The connotation behind "at least" is that there is an upside amidst all the tragedy. Don't fucking tell a grieving person what they should be thankful for.
Here's what I think when you say "At least she lived till 80." 
So she technically SHOULDN'T have lived to 80? She should have died at a younger age?
Here's what I think when you say "At least she's not in pain anymore." 
No shit, Sherlock, I never would have thought of that. You're an absolute genius and my mind is absolutely blown.

I don't need rationality because I am swimming in sadness. I don't need you to try and pull me out, I need to be here for a while. This is someone I've known for the past 22 years of my life. This is the woman who was once a heavy smoker, who gave up her cigarettes during my mum's pregnancy so that I wouldn't suffer the consequences of second-hand smoke. You cannot expect me to be unaffected. You cannot expect me to move on in a flash. This is a person whom I've known my entire life. How can you expect me to act like nothing's happened?

2. Don't spin the conversation into something thankful if I'm not ready to hear it. While being thankful and trying to be positive might work in other situations, it feels like a slap in the face when people try to see the positive side of things if I'm not ready to head that direction. I don't need to hear the benefits of my grandma's death. I'm not asking you to write an expository essay detailing the pros and cons of my grandma's demise. Death is a fucking devastating thing. The fact that you're trying to sugarcoat it with rainbows and unicorns just pisses me off. I need to grieve. Telling me the pros of her demise won't help me if I'm not ready to hear it. In fact, it makes me feel like you think that my grandma didn't deserve to live longer. You seem to be saying that every day she had on this earth was unmerited.

3. Don't expect a good response to "my condolences". I honestly never and still don't know how to respond to phrases like "My condolences to your family". I've seen people respond with a thank you and that's what I've been doing but I don't get it. Fine, I get that you are trying to empathize, but I don't need your empathy. I just need my grandma to be alive and well and in front of me. I need my grandma back. I need to see her every Saturday on our scheduled Facetime sessions. I need her to be there to watch me graduate. I need her to say bye when I leave for work in the mornings and say hi when I come back home from work. I don't need your condolences.

4. Don't disrespect others' beliefs about afterlife. Oh my god. If only I could truly express how much this pisses me off. I don't believe in afterlife. So I don't believe I'll ever see my grandma again. And if I mention that to you, if I mention how devastated I am that death is irreversible and that the last time I saw my grandma before she took her last breath was over Facetime and she was unconscious and I never got to say a proper goodbye again, I do NOT need a religious or theological lecture from you. Never have and never will. Please keep your beliefs about afterlife to yourself and just acknowledge my feelings.

At the end of they day, I just want for you to be there. I don't expect you to say anything life changing that will make me feel better because come on, that's not possible. I don't even need you to be there if it's too much. I'm going to cry and I'll need space. But here's one thing I really DON'T need. And that's for you to say something unneccessary that'll make me hurt more. Be quiet if you don't have anything good to say. I honestly really appreciate that way more than a fucking "at least..."

Things I don't tell my mother

The screen flashes and then an image appears and stabilizes the lights.
"Hey. How are you?" I ask.
"Hello! We are alright, how are you?" my mother chirps.
I'm bad. I'm feel terrible. I spent one hour bawling on Saturday and another half an hour crying my eyes out today. In between, I've been falling asleep with tears streaming down my face. 
Instead of saying any of this, I pull my lips up the sides of my cheeks, trying to manage a smile. "I'm alright," I reply.
"How's uni? Anything out of the ordinary happen?" my mother responds.
I've zoned out of lectures or my study sessions. My emotions change so fast, one minute I'm crying till my eyes go crimson  and the next minute I'm laughing so hard my cheeks blush.
"Uni's fine. Nah, not much has happened. How's the fam?" I respond.
"We're alright. Really tired from today, cos we had to wake up early in the morning. Your dad's asleep. Anyway, would you be interested on going on a family trip with us in December? How do you feel about another trip?" my mum asks.
"Hm, I might be busy. I'll have to check back and let you know if I can make it. But if I can't, you guys go ahead," I say calmly.
Also last year I went on what is currently known as the worst trip in my life. I fell out with the so-called friends I went with during the trip, one of those people included my housemate. I contemplated moving out. I cried a lot because I felt so lonely in the aftermath of the chaos. I was petrified at the possibility I had no value as a human because people I thought I trusted actually chose to leave me. Around that point of time, I got dismal grades from uni and cried because I questioned if intelligence was still my thing. Prior to that, intelligence has always been my thing. That was what I was best at in the family. I topped my class during PSLE, I topped my class in JC. So after losing friends and receiving my grades, I was in the process of questioning my value as a human being. 
"Alright. Keep me updated. You look tired. Have you been busy?"
"Yes, I've just had more uni today so it's been tiring."
And I probably look more tired than usual because I've been crying myself to sleep for the past 4 nights and well, I was wailing my heart out two hours before I called you. I'm still grieving. I don't know how to get better. I wanted to call to see your faces and hear your voices and I wanted to talk about how sad I am. I wanted to talk about the pain of losing Ah ma. I wanted to tell you how much I'm hurting. I want to tell you about how guilty I feel. For not being there during her last day. I wanted to tell you about how I just suddenly fall apart and break down, and how hard I try to keep myself from doing that in uni. How tiring it is to do it. I'm emotionally exhausted. I wanted to ask you to tell me how to make it go away. How can I stop crying. But seeing you now, I can't bring myself to say it. How do I tell you these things and not feel guilty about making you worry from far far away? I can't. So I'm swallowing these words, because the last thing you need is another burden on your shoulders. The last thing I want is for you to spend your hard earned money and waste your scarce amount of free time to visit me when you could be spending that money and time relaxing on a vacation that you are in such terrible need of. The past 5 months have been hard for you and dad, of this I am aware. As your oldest daughter, a legal adult, I know better than to make you worry for me. You don't need that. 
"Ok, go get some rest. We'll talk another day?" she advises.
"Yup, ok mum. Bye mum, bye sis." I reply.

3

Today was the third day that I woke up from my sleep and realised that what happened on Saturday was not just a terrible dream, but rather, it is a living nightmare. The past 3 nights, I wish that when I wake up the next morning, I'll realise that the events of 18th August were but a dream. Often, I dream about the most ludicrous yet amazing things happening to me (like going to Shawn Mendes' concert, meeting people that I've always wanted to meet, going to Canada for placement), only to wake up and realise it was fake. That those things didn't happen. Why can't this be the same then? Why can't this terrible, horrible, god-awful event be but a part of a traumatic nightmare?

The dark side of living abroad

It is so easy to flaunt the perks of overseas travel, or living overseas, be it for a few years, or for the bulk of your life. Everyone is so ready to tell you about the craziest adventure they've ever had and how you can do it too! Or tell you stories about how the culture of a land 8 hours away is so vastly different to your own.  And while I acknowledge all these wonderful perks, living overseas is not a bed of roses.
No one tells you about the homesickness. I never thought it would bother me. "I'm a global citizen!" Or so I thought. But ever so often, I will get abruptly hit by a pang of nostalgia when something familiar happens to me. The other day, I was buying some things from the store and the cashier spoke to me in Mandarin. In that split second, I was back home, paying for something, conversing in Mandarin. But that moment was fleeting, it vanished almost as soon as it arrived. The after effects was the emotional realization that I'm not home anymore. Or when you're stressed out with university and you don't have your family around to cheer you on, or listen to you rant.
No one tells you about having to miss out on the celebrations and festivals you grew up with, the things you regard as a yearly tradition. You start to miss out on Mother's Day, Father's Day, birthday parties, Chinese New Year, Mooncake festival.
No one tells you about how the many friends you used to bet your life on will slowly vanish from your life. You begin to grow more and more distant and the person you once knew like the back of your hand, well, that person isn't the same anymore. Neither are you. Both of you have changed and for better or for worse, those changes take its toll on the friendship.
No one tells you about coping with the loss of a loved one from far away. No one tells you about the number of last minute flights your have to book (or the absolutely ludicrous prices of those flights) just to make sure you get to see the person you love before it's their time to leave the earth.  No one tells you about the guilt you carry on your shoulders for not being there during that person's last breath, or how pathetic a video call feels. You don't feel fully there, because to the people on the other side of the screen, you are but a flat, 2 dimensional figure. Sometimes they forget you're on the other line, that you're trying to feel included by making all these calls, but failing miserably. No one tells you about the pain of losing a grandparent while being stuck in a place that is 8 hours away. No one mentions the fact that grief is a knife that stabs on your heart, being slowly twisted when you least expect it. No one tells you how to mourn alone. No one tells you how to cope without family.

Narration

She pull her ID card out of her pocket and taps the reader. Two seconds later, the tempered glass barrier opens and she strides past it. She walks to the lift, presses the up button and taps her left foot while she waits. A lift arrives, but alas, the people in the lift are packed like a can of sardines. A beeping sound emanates from the lift and the door closes. Once again, she presses the button, albeit with more force this time. Another lift arrives, and this time, to her relief, it is empty, save for two people. She steps in and presses the slightly faded '3' button. When it arrives at the 3rd storey, she steps out and is immediately bombarded with the sickly smell of antiseptic lotion, the sounds of people talking, beeps from heart monitor machines, the sight of so many people in different coloured uniforms. She knows the way by heart. Make a right, then a left, then a left, followed by yet another right, then keep walking to the end.
"Ah ma! Li ho bo?" she says, her voice half an octave higher than it usually is when she talks to most people.
"Wo buay soo hock. Ba dor jin tia," her grandma whispers.
"Li oo jiak yo bo? Oo gah lo kun gong bo?" she asks.
"Aiya, ga lokun gong, buay gong sio siang lah. Wo buay ho liao." her grandma whimpers, shaking her head. She closes her eyes and her head slides towards left shoulder.

She rearranges the blankets on the bed, and puts on four more heat packs on her grandma to keep her warm. Then, she pulls out her black laptop from her maroon haversack and begins to do her readings for her next class, which starts at 8am the next day.
When the clock strikes 9, she packs her things, rearranges the bed one last time and whispers in her grandma's ear “晚安。明天，我会来看你。” She treads out of the ward lightly, just as she has for the past 9 nights. A frown slowly forms on her face as she wonders how long she has to do this for. How long it will be before her grandma will be back home, with her and the rest of the family. Encountering the gantry again, she pulls out her ID card yet again, walking past the gates when they open. Her mouth widens into a yawn as she gets on the train home.

Irreversibility

There's no turning back now.
Some decisions, especially the major life ones, can't be undone.
The simple ones are easy to undo, or if wrong, are relatively inconsequential. What to eat for lunch? What time should I meet my friends tomorrow? Should I bring my bottle with me? If you change your mind on the food you order, if you're fast enough, you can get it changed. If you don't bring your bottle and find yourself needing a drink, you can buy a new one. Little harm is done.
But the major life decisions, the ones of great consequence, are those that we can't easily undo. And that scares me. Because I chose one opportunity over the other, I don't know if I chose right. What if I made a mistake? I can't undo it.
Thoughts like these tend to fill my head, especially during exam periods, when I miss being with my family and friends back home. Did I make the right decision to move overseas? Because now, my heart cannot be in the two places that I love at once. Had I never left, I would have never known how it feels like to live overseas and experience a new culture. I would be content with my family and friends and the culture I grew up in. It would also mean I'd lack the insight that I've gained today, something I would regret not having. I'd have never met the friends I have now, the ones I call "fam". The ones I treat like family.
I know now that when I move back home, things will be different and I won't see things the same way again. I may not be content with my life when I go back, and I may never be content with my life for the rest of my life. It's a curse that I've bestowed on myself.

What if: I moved out

A series of stories I will begin to write about my "what if" moments in life. Two roads diverged in the wood and I could only choose one. But...what would have happened if I picked the other? Where would I be? I guess I will never know, but it's always intriguing to imagine.

"It's dinner time!" Jan called out from the kitchen.

"It smells amazing!!!" Trisha said. 

"Let's eat!" Jan said.

The girls tucked into their food, slurping heartily on their chicken curry noodles.

"OMG, the craziest thing happened to me today. So I was queuing for a free Boost, you know how I've been playing that game to get points for ages, yeah so I got a voucher. Anyways, I was queuing to get my free drink. Then this guy nearby is waiting and he keeps looking around and from my side eye, it looks like he's staring at me. Which was weird. Anyway, he suddenly asked me 'Hi, random question, but do you think my hair looks nice?' Like who the hell would ask that to a random stranger? Also, side note, it was eugh..."

"What? That's such a weirdo!"

"Yeah anyway I wasn't gonna diss his hair, cos he was a random stranger so I just said it looked alright. Then he proceeded to ask me 'How would you rate it on a scale of 1-10?' Dude...why the heck would you ask me that?"

"What a weird dude. Did you continue talking to him after that?"

"No, I just said IDK and looked at my phone and walked further away from him. After I got my drink, I left as quickly as possible."

"Now, my turn! I've got amazing news! My mum has decided not to come visit me this holiday, but instead, she'll use the money to pay for a trip for me to go to Melbourne to visit my best friend there!!!"

"That's amazing! Have you guys planned your trip yet?"

"Not yet. Do you have any recommendations? You've been there so many times!"

"Yes! I've got so many recommendations. And no, it's not that many times. I've only been there twice! Wait, I've got a list, let me find it for you."

The girls continued their conversation through the dinner. They laughed, then washed the dishes, all the while with Jan telling the story of how her sister's hair ended up being caught in a fan when she was kid. When they were done, they proceeded to Trisha's room to jam. They spent their time crooning to mainstream pop songs and sang their hearts out.  

Before long, two hours had passed. Jan yawned and said, "It's getting late. I think I'll go to bed now. See you tomorrow! We're still on for Indian food right?"
"Definitely!"

"Night!"

"Good night!"

What if: I became a professional cook

A series of stories I will begin to write about my "what if" moments in life. Two roads diverged in the wood and I could only choose one. But...what would have happened if I picked the other? Where would I be? I guess I will never know, but it's always intriguing to imagine.

"Table 24, 1 steak! And 2 crabs for table 10!"
"Yes, chef!"
She turned to the fridge, grabbed a piece of marinated steak that had been resting on the tray for the past 2 hours and took it out. Then, she proceeded to pour a tablespoon of oil on a frying pan that had been sitting on the fire for a few minutes, waiting to hear the sizzling oil. In a few seconds, the pan began to sizzle and she put the steak in the pan. "Tsssssss!" it hissed. She shook the pan in a circular motion, and took a deep whiff of the satay marinade. Mmmmmm. It still smelt so good, even though she'd been cooking this almost everyday for the past 6 months. She took out the soft shell crabs that had been dipped into batter and gently lowered them into the pot of hot oil. It began to crackle and hiss angrily, as if warning her of the imminent splashes that were soon to happen. Deftly, she covered the pot let it continue to crackle and pop. She whipped out a pair of metal tongs and flipped the steak to the other side, hearing the angry sizzles from the pan as she did it. As it cooked, she began to hear the deep fryer quieten down. There it was! Her cue to open the pan. She did so, and pulled up the tray of fried crabs, leaving them to drain above the fryer. Now, onto the beef. Using the tongs, she put it on the black embellished plate and passed it to the other commis in the kitchen. "Table 24, 1 steak!" Once the plate was out of her hand, she took a large stride towards the fryer, her right arm grabbing a large metal dish and her left end wielding the tongs, as she fished out the fried crabs and put them on the plate. "Table 10, 2 crabs." she shouted.
The orders kept coming. Chickens, crabs, shrimp, she had to cook them all. At last, all the diners were out the door and the kitchen was closed for the day. She rested her hips against the stainless steel counter top and took a long gulp of water from her orange bottle. She enjoyed her day, but she was tired. With 6 day work weeks and being out of her house for 12 hours per day, being a line cook was no easy job. She enjoyed this, or at least, she thought she did. Cooking had always been something that gave her joy and being paid to cook and not have to clean up was pretty much her dream. But the long hours were having its toll on her. She thought back to the conversation she'd just had with her father last night.
"All I'm saying is, you can just submit an application and see how it goes!" he pleaded.
"What I am saying is that I know what the result will be! I know I can get into those courses they offer. But what for? I don't even want to do those courses. I want to be a chef. I'm already getting one step closer. I don't need university to become a chef, " she huffed.
"But you need a degree to prepare you for the workplace!" he exclaimed, as if it were a fact of life.
"Prepare me for what? What workplace do you have in mind? A 9-5, office job? I have said SO many times, I DON'T WANT IT! If I want to continue studying, I'll go to CULINARY SCHOOL!" she nearly shouted.
"Go talk to her," he said to his wife, clearly exhausted from the debate.
"Your dad just wants what's best for you," her mother says gently.
"And I thought you said you didn't care what I did, as long as I was happy," she retorted.

She removed her apron, grabbed her haversack, and began her walk to the train station, tonight, her parents would be home and she silently prayed to the universe that they would be asleep by the time she got back.

The story of us

Once upon a time, at an unspecified amount of time ago, I met you. We had a common interest that kept us together as friends. Along the way, we learnt more about each other. We learnt that we had other similar interests. There were things we could always talk about. There was never a dull moment in our friendship. We were well and truly happy. 
But alas, something happened (as it always does). A slight bit of doubt creeps in, miscommunications build up, we used to be as clear as crystal, able to read each other perfectly. But soon the dust sets in, the once-clear glass begins to smudge and cloud up. Maybe it wasn't anything big when it first started. It was a small fib. Or maybe the concealment of something that did not wish to be shared. But that hiding manifested into a small, yet ever-growing gap between us. Slowly, we began to hide more, retreating into our shells, closing our books. And one day, something big happens. Maybe it's a fight. Or maybe, something happened to me and you weren't there for me. You didn't stand by me. Things don't end well between us. We don't consider each other as a person we'd rely on anymore. We'd say we're friends, and manage a hi or bye if we see each other, but we can't go back. We can never go back. I can't trust you anymore and I wouldn't know what to say to you anymore that I'd feel comfortable sharing. Apart from small talk. But if you haven't forgotten, I hate small talk. I consider it a necessary evil because it's how you warm up in conversation with strangers and new friends. But it's an absolute waste of time if the conversation isn't going anywhere because it tells me nothing about you and tells you nothing about me. 
That's the end of the story.

I've had this narrative repeated in my life so many times. And I wonder why I still do it. Why do I give so much when I could end up falling flat on my face? The joy is great, but the pain is excruciating. Why do I bother to trust new people I meet? Why do I always want to make new friends? Everytime this story ends, I put my guard up. But over time, I let it down again. Sooner or later, I get hurt again. In the midst, I also meet others who actually stay. And I guess maybe that's why I gamble with my heart.

Culture shock

I was first introduced to this when W wrote to me about it.
It was really interesting and something that I felt resonated with my experience of moving overseas.

The initial honeymoon period feels like how one might feel when they visit their dream destination for their holiday and everything is how they expected it to be, or better. I was in awe of things I'd now laugh at. I was amazed by how cheap a standing fan cost ($12 at Kmart, to be exact), I was amazed by the entire set up of Kmart and the ridiculously low prices for things that cost so much more in Singapore. I was intrigued by the supermarkets, the thought of preparing meals for myself and the prospect of having my own room that I could decorate to my liking. I guess the hype for the former two died down after a while, although I do still love a trip to Woolies when things go on sale and I still enjoy cooking. As for the latter, I quickly learnt that I'm not one for craft and decorations, so my room is pretty bare in terms of wall art. But I'm fine with that. After all, it's my room, my own space that I can be myself truly.

The culture shock began to set in as I realised that people spoke with a different accent and that it was hard for me to be understood because I spoke with a Singaporean accent. I learnt that people are racist or do hold some racial bias (to varying degrees). Moving from a country where I was a part of the racial majority to where I became a minority, I feel like I better understand how the minorities in Singapore feel, but with that being said, I do not discount that their experience might be more intense than mine and what I feel can't be compared to their experience. After all, I've only spent 2 years in a different country, whereas they have spent the bulk (or entirety) of their lives living  in a country as a minority. And although I have faced situations where people publicly picked on me because of my race, or made subtly racist remarks, I am glad for this experience because I have become more sensitive to racist tendencies and have become more careful of what I say. Coming back to Singapore and listening to the way some people around speak about minorities and race has really appalled me. Even the way my parents discuss this issue can sometimes be far from delicate and makes my blood boil. I digress and maybe I'll continue a discussion on this topic next time.

Getting back to the point, I began to feel a disconnect with the people in Oz and for a while I even held a misguided belief that I'd probably never be able to be good friends with the Aussies. That I could only form good friends with people from Singapore. I missed the taste of home, I was craving for kway chap and sambal kang kong. I was getting bored of my life in Oz.

But over time, adjustment happened. I began to get used to the fact that I couldn't access the taste of home that easily, got used to my cooking, the prices of things, the accent, among many other things. I began to pick up hobbies like guitar and swimming. A sense of familiarity began to develop and I was getting more and more content with my life in Oz. I met so many wonderful people in Oz that I can call good, close friends and I'd even consider some of them among my best friends. These people are now the ones I count on for help, who I know will have my back and who make my day.

I'd say I've adapted now. I'm pretty happy with my life in Oz. I have a wonderful circle of friends, I have hobbies I love to do and I'm managing.

Last minute decisions

I guess the world has an interesting way to remind me again and again that life is unpredictable. Last year, it came in the form of the ending of many friendships. Learning that people change and sometimes the people you trusted most couldn't be trusted anymore. Learning that I was not as independent as I thought. That I do need people around me. I also saw who was really there for me when I needed help. And boy, am I glad I did. I figured out who my true friends were.

This time, the universe has deemed it necessary to teach me that life can go anytime. In one snap, someone I love could possibly just leave me. The last time I came close to the lingering scent of death was 6 years ago. I guess the world decided I need a refresher course.

Nevertheless, I am still thankful that I've been given a second chance. By some miracle, I have my uni break so I can fly back to spend more time with my family. It was probably the most stressful 4 days of my life, running around like a headless chicken trying to figure out how to change the flights I'd already booked before, deliberating if it was worth losing the money I'd spent on another trip I'd booked way in advance or worth paying 50% of my initial flight ticket to change my flight. But it dawned on me that my ah ma had spent so much on me. Not just money (which would probably be so much more than how much I'd spent on my air tickets), but she spent 20 years of her life taking care of me. She spent 20 years cooking even though she hated cooking, quit smoking before I was born so that I would grow up to be a healthy person (even though she was a heavy smoker), lived with us so that my parents wouldn't have to worry about childcare arrangements.

Her life was not easy. She was supposed to be able to rest easy after spending so much time raising my dad and his brothers. But then she offered to take care of her grandkids. Just as we'd began growing up and became more independent, she was supposed to be able to relax. But alas, when she thought she could enjoy her senior years, my Ah Gong was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. She spent her time taking care of him and us. And now, in her old age, she's ridden with illness herself.

6 years ago, I let my Ah Gong down. I made a promise to him that I would take care of ah ma for him. Ah Gong, I will not let you down this time.

Changing minds

Time and time again, I've changed my mind on so many things, so many times. Sometimes, these changes in my opinions surprise even myself. Things like leaving my old religion etc. This time is no different. I never thought that I'd ever consider going back to visit Singapore for a short stay. I was already anticipating coming back to study and just staying in Australia till I graduate before I head home. I wanted to save money on airfare and cherish whatever time I had left in Oz. But circumstances change. People fall sick.
I don't want to live with one more regret in this life. I regretted not being there for my grandfather before he passed on. Even though he was living in the same house as me and was bedbound, I didn't make it a point to go to his room and talk to him everyday. I remember at his funeral, I was just so angry at myself, for not having cared more. I mentally told myself I was going to do better with Ah Ma. I would take care of her and I would cherish my time with her. Yet, I got complacent again and I didn't do that last summer. Sure, now and then we'd have conversations, but they were short and I would rather be doing something else than hear her nag at me. But now, I'd give anything to hear her continue to nag at me. So I think this time, I will go back. Because life is unpredictable, and when her time comes, I don't want to feel the same regret I  did 6 years ago. I swore I wouldn't go back for for a short trip and that regardless of what happens in the family, I'd just rough it out here in Oz, but I'm going back on this. I don't want to be selfish.

Rude shocks

Today, I was reminded, yet again, of how our friendship failed and became the shitshow it is today.
I'd thought I'd be done with reminders. Everything that once connected us has ended, there were no more obligations. But I guess some ties take a lot more time than 6 months to be broken. Up to recently, I still get asked by my mutual friends or my parents, "how is _?". I just say "good" and change the subject. Because I'm done talking about everything that happened. I've moved on and I don't need my headspace to be invaded by the bad memories.
Today's reminder was worse than the previous questions. It began innocently. I had to check my flight details and send them to my dad so that he was aware of my plans. Then her name popped up as my emergency contact. I promptly changed it, but alas, the memory had been triggered. I was reminded of a time where I'd made bookings for both of us, be it flights, tours, concerts, etc. I'd etched in my head her full name, DOB and all the details. I'd list her as my emergency contact and vice versa. But those days are over. I had thought, after 6 months, her name wouldn't be anywhere near my paperwork, bookings of any sort. It was a rude shock, but funnily, I didn't feel pain anymore when I saw her name. I just felt confusion, I felt perplexed to see her name with mine. I felt like it was a mistake that had to be corrected. I guess that was a good sign. It doesn't bother me anymore, it doesn't tear my soul apart to know that she doesn't care about me like she used to. Thank goodness.

Bitter

Not really home anymore.

5 minutes prior to this, my sisters made plans to have dinner together. Without me. Even though I was in the very same room, close enough to hear every word being said.
I thought I was done with this feeling of being left out. I've been left out of so many things, so many times, I thought I'd be used to this. But I guess I didn't cos I expected more from my sisters. Of all people, even family disappoints. I've been so heavily disappointed by people I thought were friends all my life, but now even my sisters don't want me to go along.
Even if they do ask, I'm an afterthought. It's like a oh, you're free too? But if it's supposed to be 3 of us, and one of them can't make it, the whole plan is cancelled. I guess I'm not interesting enough to warrant spending time over a meal with. Maybe there really is something wrong with me.